Mixxes 4 My Exxes Vol. II - {iF.}

When I first watched the coffee run- deadmau5 was just deadmau5 Deadmau5 is still just deadmau5 Keep telling yourself that. So what's the plan here. There's a plan. Haha. Very funny. I thought so. Where am I taking this thing? Just keep driving. “Just keep driving.” Don't act like you're not enjoying it. I really am— “Mad as Rabbits” Professor Pancakes! Yes. What have you done to this portal. Hehehe. >< Who are these sketchy ass comics. Idk heroes I guess. God, this show is cringe. Yeah. Have we gone through the title sequence yet? Why on earth would you study this. I'll study anything that holds my attention. Here, hold this. What is it. It's my attention. Make me a sandwhich. Okay. What kind. Any fucking sandwhich. Just—any sandwhich? Yeah. Oh, dear. What. It's another infinite realm. Oh, wow. Which means. It's all the same— Same thing. I want this to swallow this pill, and swallow it whole What does it do?? —nobody quite knows. Perfect. We knew you'd be the one for the jo. My whole world is full of “God, she's beautiful…l And “I don't want to be here anymore” But at least I came, right? At least I got you right here in my heart —you're in my head again I can't go to sleep I take medicine I don't take advice, or compliments If it's wrong and such, Hey, At least I'm honest (Or was) It's got to all count for something I've been embarrassed by it Careless, I guess It's just another chance to be brainwashed Let me tell you what my whole brain does Lights up when I think of you Just keep doing, What you been doing is, Being blue, You're just being Blū That is a flex. Huh. They used my name in a song. Wow. They even spelled it right. Okay. In the heights Far Regina Spector Far Now I don't want to dive In; I just want to close my eyes for awhile Maybe I'm ‘it'. — —but right now, I'm in it Disentreswe in such Unholy matrimony. Wtf is this. Holy shit, I got 2 stop listenin to dis music. die. This is horrible. Yeah, this is a disaster. This is perfect. X_x It's actually perfect. [actually on fire] Why. Why would u do dis. u did this. I did this. I is U. Oh, Well fuck it. No vowels then. Wut. Why. Wut. Do something cool. [ Your interview at Equinox is today between 9:30 AM and 10:00 AM (US/Eastern). At the time of your interview please join via this link: https://l.indeed.com/HluKX3Gp43/. Reply STOP if you no longer want to receive event updates from Indeed. Do you like how it feels? Do you like how I am— Well yeah then So go ahead; I'll tell you the answer, But you don't like it, and None of its random —none of it matters, none of it can I don't mean to vanish But I'm a phantom (And I'm just a fan) “Oh well”, I thought broadly to myself; I wasn't quite ready either way to be — nevermind. Back online: Guess I'm an insomniac tonight Surface level scrolling and what do I find The whole world of mine Putting a spark in my eye Just a glimmer, I simmer in the limelight I might die trying, I might just Turn off the light, roll over Paint myself white— I'm just being polite, How's the sacrifice going Um, the what The virgin sacrifice. What?! We don't do that! Who is ‘we'? …nobody. Aha! Illuminati! That's not a thing! I knew it. You know nothing. I know everything. No you don't; cause then you'd be in the Illuminati! Aha! —which isn't real! Damn, I want you so bad; —damn, I want you so bad Damn. —I want you so bad. Damn, (God damn) I want you so bad Damn, I want you so bad Damn (Damn!) I want you so bad. Damn, I want you so bad Damn, I want you so bad Right now Well, that's too bad, cause you know what?! Fuck it, I wanna get drunk. That's not a good idea. Do you have a better one? I got it. What's up. I'll just throw the rock—at his face. That's not a good idea. It's a grand idea! Spectacular. I really want to look at Dillon Francis's Instagram. For what. I don't know. You know what I want? Huh. A peanut butter and jelly sandwhich. That sounds good. Yeah. Lol that's it? That's the whole scene. Are you sure? Yeah. Oh shit, I knew I'd eventually revisit this. What is it. “Three Assholes In A Car Getting Coffee” BEFORE: which one do you think is the most attractive. You want me to rank them? Yes. Rank them. Um, okay. That was a dark day. All the days are dark here. You know, God. Sure— I'm extremely bored. Bored with what. Here's a portal Where's it go? Absolutely nowhere. MEANWHILE, IN ABSOLUTELY NOWHWEE Oh God, it's getting hot in here. Well, yeah, dude. Oh fuck. What. We gotta turn around. What'd we leave. My best friend. Your best— Yeah! I'm your best friend. You're nobody's best friend, Dillon Francis. Where the fuck's my fucking sandwhich my Jesus's that's a lot of fucks. Yeah, a lot of fucks and zero sandwhiches. You have to put this in his hand. No. That's where it goes. In his hand. That's the game? That's this game. How many games are we playing? All of them, Liz. I'm not— LIZ LEMON I HATE THIS GAME. I LOVE THIS GAME IS IT OVER YET?! Oh check it out, he does look like Skrillex. Oh shit, so this is season 7 It is? Yeah, there's Drake Bell. Where. Timmy, I have to tell you something. Not right now. No, yes, right now— Remember that scene on the— FUCK DILLON FRANCIS I WIN MOTHERFUCKER. YES. GOD IS REAL. I asked God for Dillon Francis to show me his girlfriend on Instagram and he did it. YEA BITCH. I WIN. Well, that's one game. What's the other one. Fuxk, What up dude. Now, I just realized something. FUCK. WhatS. We gotta burn all this Dillon Francis How. I don't know, I never printed it on paper. Well, that's fine: I got something else for you to do. What. SUCK MY DICK. Ok. Okay. Okay. Why doesn't this hurt as bad as last time—. LAST TIME: You know what? Fuck this. Oh shit, now what do I do with this thing? … … … Wait dude, if I give him this stone— Uh huh And this stone has powers— Yes it does. Then won't DILLON FRANCIS GET ALL THE POWERS. No. No? Not “all the powers”, just the ones in the stone. This stone has a lot of powers. Yes it does. You should give it to Skrillex. I was going to. And then what. BEFORE: fuck, there's no fire escape. There is, it's just on the other side. IMm not gonna risk seeing Sonny to see Skrillex. I don't care how much sense any of this makes, that makes the most sense. Let's change the narrative on this. What's the narrative. What is your motive? That's the narrative? I—yea. ::||puseZ Sunni, you're drunk. I don't careZ . LookC. Remember this scene: THIS AINT A SCENE, ITS A GODDAMN ARMS RACE. No, it's a scene. (It's two, actually Something forced my eyes up and onto the LCD screen on the partition of the subway platform, in perfect ancroniciry i read the word “EASY” as it appeared on the screen, as the same word poured through my headphones from the sounds of Queen, the last song of a mix I actually liked, but had yet to do anything with— I had yet to do anything with anything—though, perhaps that was the point. I had been in an elusive state of withdrawal and cyclical imbalance, and though this morning had been planned for ages, it had only just now happened. Overwhelmed with sadness, I had realized reading the first lines out of a book by Madonna's brother that I hadn't the energy for superstardom—and with as little of the energy I did have left, had become otherwise deflated and unmotivated—Yet, for some reason, having spent the morning scrolling through Dillon Francis's instragram, I was on an A-train bound for Manhattan, or maybe even—Washing heights, as the words to my once-favorite musical had been of course clamoring around in my head with all the other things that were in there—even DillonbFrancis and now his girlfriend, their two dogs, and his mother, who had appeared to me just-so in a dream just weeks earlier; though I had thought to have made her up in my mind, there she was, supposedly—alongside Dillon and his horrible haircut—though nothing he could do ever seemed to change my mind or the way that I felt about him, even confirming his relationship publicly; I still rather liked him, and he still had a way of setting me in motion merely through emotion—perhaps, this was the lone standing function of Dillon Francis after all. Now, I was headed to the gym, perhaps after a touristy detour to visit what I imagined to be a now-gentrified Washington Heights “You must take the A-Train!” Usnavi sings in the Title Opener, and though I had taken in the entirety of the shows lyrics around a decade earlier, becoming a fanatic of akin Manuel a Miranda long before Hamilton or Moana, or the rest of the world knew who he was—I had never once imagined myaelf actually attempting to visit Washington Heights, my overall lifelong aversion to New York probably a residual trauma from the last lifetime I had spent in this incarnation—I knew for certain more than once I had lived in this existence—I remembered well Dillon Francis and the lifetimes I had spent with him—and now I wondered exactly which one this one was; I had gotten what I had wanted “Show me your girlfriend.” I thought, upon waking up from a dream I had spent with him “I want to see.” I thought loudly, smirking to myself and stepping into the shower, where I often— for some strange reason thought about Dillon Francis. But this particular morning—I thought about Dillon Francis, his girlfriend, their two dogs, his mother, and my ex husband—the latter of which I cursed silently, mumbling something under my breath about “whatever, fuck it” and wondering if I should spend the evening after working “being Sunnï Blū”, which meant sitting down with a tall can of bud light and chasing it with a Truly or two, sipping on something even fruitier like a Mike's Hard Lemonade and sifting through beats entirely too drunk enough to create any of my own (but just drunk enough to rap something funny and fall asleep sad as fuck….) only to wake, undoubtedly even sadder, very sleepy, and dilapidated—but at least with a rap track worth spinning into my sets, or not—the more I became a DJ the less I actually wanted to be a DJ. Now I just wanted a husband, a baby—or maybe just two dogs and a Dillon Francis, and I couldn't imagine why or how I had become so twisted up in my overt attraction to the man that it had actually become continually devastating to have to think about him with someone else—and though even from the beginning I knew it could have never been someone like me—I wondered why someone like me even existed, when the type of men I was attracted to always had Kayla Laurens. Always. I was learning from everything I was taking in—things I wanted and needed to know. I had only just earlier asked God for “closure with Dillon Francis”, and God had in fact been showing off with a fierceness at how quickly it could work to fulfill my every request, prayer, and wish—and how instantly God acknowledged any of my thoughts, wants, and needs. “Okay.” I had never really been up and about so early In New York, but could in no way wrap my mind around a wink of sleep, the strangeness of having been dead-on looming in my chest and wrapping into a sensation of arrogant ritghteouaness—the deep burning hardening into a pungent sting in the confines of my abdomen “Fuck this”, I muttered, thinking to myself “I don't want to be a superstar DJ. I want to be a housewife.” I had used Dillon's Instagram as an EDM Newsfeed—it was the safer bet above anything else, as I knew wandering off into DJ land would produce even more hurtful images of skinny girls prancing around promoting their horrible music—or even worse—pretty boy DJs and their pretty white girlfriends on private jets or backstage at festivals, rubbing noses with the other wealthy socialites my own poor choices had excluded me from being allowed to become; at least I was finally willing to take accountability for just being shitty. It would be embarrassing for a man of such prominence to dip below his social class, especially to one that had already been used, abused, and broken—such as I. “Get off at 181st”, and take the escalator—“ As it turns out, Lin Manuel was an excellent controller of sorts—or had at least given accurate enough directions, and though there was no actual escalator—at least that I found upon the exit, I felt as if walking up the accessible ramp through the arched tunnel, I was perhaps entering itself the 4th dimension—and though I had learned of the ascended realms and dimensions beyond the 4th, having finally accessed how to fluidly travel between them—or to differentiate one from another as they often crossed and intersected, gliding amongst them, I had been shaking myself loose from being tricked in any way into believing anything I had dreamt up or written would ever be more than what it was—a one-sided blind-eyed attempt at success from the back way in. It seemed everyone was getting married or already was—even Porter Robinson, which seemed bizarre, as though he was older than me, maybe even by only a little—I still thought of him as so young; then again, most people my age were also married—and here I was, finally divorced and why in the world I wanted so badly to do it all over again—but better. It really was true what had always been said—the first heartbreak being the worst, and that once a woman gets over the father of her children, almost anything goes; I. Oils no longer be worried with whether or not I would be cheated on again, as I probably would l—and it didn't matter. It took 30 years to figure out that society was made by and for cheating males—our responsibility as women learning as best we could to swallow the truth whole; that men craved youthful, tiny women most their lives—and the rest of us, well… “WHATEVER.” WHATEVER. What— Ever. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.